


Choice

by angel1972



Category: Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-11
Updated: 2015-01-11
Packaged: 2018-03-07 04:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3160772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angel1972/pseuds/angel1972
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint gave Natasha a choice: die alone or fight for something better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Choice

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: the characters in this story are the property of Marvel. No profit is being made from this story.

Clint held his hand out in silent invitation waiting for Natasha to take it. His expression was neutral, but his eyes were alert. It seemed he wasn't a complete idiot: he hadn't let his guard down completely. He was just giving her a choice.

Most of her life was a series of carefully calculated lies. It was like she were merely a pawn on a game board whose rules were in constant flux even as the game itself change. One moment she was playing chess, the next go fish.

She had never been asked what she wanted to do with her life, never asked if she wanted to be a spy, never even asked what she wanted for breakfast.

But this strange, strange man who adored the color purple, who wore sunglasses even at night, and used a weapon from the paleolithic era was offering her a choice (as flimsy as it was). 

'What do you want to with your life?'

'Do you want to live it in lonely servitude to the highest bidder? 

'Or do you want to make a difference in the world?'

'Do you want to wipe some of the red from your ledger?'

Of course the alternative was death by his hands. She was already battered and bruised by their fight, and there was a part of her that was hoping this cocky American would put her out of her misery like the rapid dog she felt she was.

But instead of killing like he had been ordered, he was offering her a choice, a chance to be something better than she was, and do it under her own volition. 

'Why?' Natasha had asked. Her lips were cracked and trembling, and her hands shook as she took in the full magnitude of Clint's words. There was a part of her that wanted it all to end, but there was a bigger part that was a survivor. 'Why didn't you kill me your bow and arrow? Why fight me hand to hand? Why disobey your orders?'

'I've all ways been able to see better from a distance,' the blond archer said with a shrug as if that explained everything. 

'And what do see when you look at me?'

'I see a woman who was made and unmade so many times she doesn't even know who she is. I see a woman who has never had a childhood, or a family, or friends or anyone or anything to call your own, not even your own body. I see a a woman who could do great good if given half a chance.'

(Later on she would learn that the blond archer was going down a similar path as her when someone stepped in and gave him a choice.)

She stared into his eyes, and he stared into his, and the moments ticked by quietly. If Clint had really wanted her dead she would have already been before she even knew what hit her. 

She had nothing to lose, and possibly everything to gain.

She swallowed, and reached her hand tentatively towards Clint's outstretched one. A part of her almost expecting a knife to be plunged into her chest followed by laughter at her naivete.

There was none of that, instead he took her hand, and shook it with a smile that rivaled the sun. And it was in that moment that a large weight began to lift from her chest. This must be what it felt like to be free, truly and gloriously free.

'Welcome to SHIELD, Natasha.'

And for the first time in a long time, Natasha smiled.


End file.
